


Beautifully, Illogically

by lostinstarfleet



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Enterprise, Love, M/M, Mind Meld, Starfleet Academy, T'hy'la, Vulcan, Vulcan Kiss, ozh'esta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinstarfleet/pseuds/lostinstarfleet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James T. Kirk is more insecure than you would expect, but when Spock suspects that his best friend is keeping something from him, he decides to find out for himself. The result of the mind meld is definitely not what Spock was expecting, but Kirk doesn't know what Spock has seen. What does he do now that he has human feelings thrust upon him, ones that he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suspicions

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to get as much info right as possible, I'm sorry if anything is wrong. I'm also sorry that it is a short first chapter - they will get longer!
> 
> *Updates may come slowly due to school starting, but I'm trying my best*

Spock knew that James trusted him more than anyone on board the ship - even more so than Sulu, even more than  _Bones._  And this wasn't Spock being conceited, this was just the truth. Jim was happy to talk to most of the crew about anything, Bones most of all, but when it came to opening up to someone, Spock knew that he was the man that Jim turned to. Perhaps it was the lack of emotions that Spock carried that James thought made  _him_  the least judgemental person to be his therapist - which was the  _logical_ explanation - or maybe Jim simply  _trusted_ Spock more than anybody else. Whatever the case, it gave Spock a slight sense of appreciation for the Captain and his friend, but mostly just an extra responsibility which he did not need. Over time, however, he grew used to Jim turning to him with his problems, and began to resent it less, some of the time he might even say that he  _enjoyed_ the security of knowing that  _Jim_ was comfortable around him, when he knew a lot of the ship weren't. Through this, Spock achieved familiarity with James - an understanding that he had never had with anyone before. He felt a  _true_ friendship, which was a rather human way of thinking of it, but every species needed companions. Friends, as well as mates.

 James usually came to Spock's quarters at the same time every week, to discuss anything that was on his mind, (Spock had never expected him to have quite so many insecurities, even if many of them were about women), so when the Captain didn't show up that day, Spock's first instinct was to search for him, to make sure that he was okay.

Unsurprisingly, he found him in the medical bay, where he appeared to be talking to McCoy in the same manner in which the two of them spoke on a weekly basis. They both had their back to the door from which Spock was approaching. McCoy was fumbling around on the preparation surface, measuring up medication for the morning; he was the only medical there - only one person was required to work the night shift.

The bay was fulgent - so bright that he didn't understand how it could possibly benefit the patients, who all appeared to be asleep or sedated. As he neared, he could hear that his friends were speaking in hushed tones. Jim's voice was frantic, and Bones spun round to offer him some advice before he was stopped in his tracks, seeing Spock standing in the doorway. James turned to see what had halted the doctor. Their gazes met, and he gasped so slightly that a human may not have been able to perceive it, but Vulcans were another matter. As fast as his heart had dropped, Jim built back up his facade, greeting the Commander with a smile that could have fooled anyone but the person who knew him best.

“Hey,” he greeted the man standing in the doorway, “how long have you been there?”

“Not long enough to hear what you were discussing. You obviously do not want me to know.”

“No, no. I-I just... I needed to talk to Bones about something. Something that you wouldn’t understand.”

Spock didn’t understand what Jim could _possibly_ tell Bones that he couldn’t tell him. For the last few months, Jim had told him the ins and outs of every sexual encounter that he had had, and why it was resting on his conscious. He knew that sex was a very private and personal topic in the human culture, almost definitely the _most_ private. Was James keeping something from him?

“Captain, you do not need to keep anything from me,” he was standing straight, with his hands behind his back. He spoke formally, for he did not feel that this was a situation where he could use an intimate address. Jim rose from his seat and thanked Bones for his help, and made for the doorway. He stopped in front of Spock.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come tonight,” James said wearily, “but there is no need to start calling me “Captain”.”

He pushed gently passed the confused Vulcan, and smacked him affectionately between the shoulder blades. Spock waited until he was out of sight before speaking again.

“Is he okay?” he asked the doctor, surprised by his own worry.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” They nodded in regard and Spock left the busy man to catch up with his friend.

 

Jim knew who it was before the approaching footsteps had a voice.

“Spock,” he said, without turning his head. Spock matched his pace and they continued walking.

“You are not okay,” he stated, stopping when the other man stopped outside of his room.

“I am absolutely fine.”

“You are lying to me. Doctor McCoy told me that you _will_ be fine. Right now, however, you are not.”

James made no attempt to reply, so he tried again.

“Is it something that I have done?”

“It is not something that you have done, but it’s not something you can fix, either,” James sighed, apparently eager to end the conversation. Spock hesitated, searching his mind for a logical explanation as to what Jim was keeping from him, and it suddenly occurred to him, that the reason he was being kept in the dark was that it involved Lieutenant Uhura – _his_ Nyota. His anger was invisible, however. Instead, he offered a seemingly helpful approach to getting the information.

“Very well, but please, let me offer you something that will help put your mind at ease,” he spoke calmly, and Jim nodded out of sheer impatience. He brought both of his hands to Jim’s temples.

The meld was intense for Spock, but he controlled it, searching only for one thing and stopping when he had found it. It appeared as though the meld had been fine for Jim, and he thanked Spock and claimed that he was feeling better before disappearing inside his room. Spock knew. He had found the information, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Not what he was expecting at _all._

 


	2. Guilt

All that night, Spock could do nothing but think about what he had seen in Kirk’s brain. He had felt it, he had experienced it, and now he knew why Jim was so reluctant to speak to tell him about it. Jim had been right, Spock _didn’t_ understand, but he was trying hard to. He lay in bed attempting to fathom some logic out of what Kirk had been feeling – what Kirk had hidden so well from him. He tried hard to think of a way to explain to his friend what he had seen, that he had performed a mind meld. It had only just occurred to Spock that doing so without another’s permission could be called an “invasion of privacy”. He started to understand that he had deceived his friend, and on reminiscence, was beginning to feel what he believed to be “guilt”. The sudden appearance of his human side discomposed Spock, and he decided that he must distract himself with work in order to retain control of his emotions. He checked the time: five-thirty-eight. He must have drifted to sleep at some point in the night, but he could not remember doing so. He showered and changed into his uniform, which took him little under fifteen minutes. He was the first person into the breakfast room, and he ate very little – only a piece of toast and a glass of juice – before proceeding through into the bridge.

It was empty, apart from a single night officer sat at the helm, doing nothing. They weren't on an immediate mission at the moment, and all that was needed was to keep the ship on course. She looked tired and blasé, but perked up when he entered. He dismissed her and she thanked him gratefully. He sat down at his station and looked around. There was nothing much he could do until the rest of the crew appeared, so instead, he perched in the Captain’s chair. He shifted about uncomfortably. How did Jim endure this all day? Eventually he found a comfortable position by crossing his legs and leaning his weight to the left. By this time, he realised that he was still contemplating the events of the previous day, but before he could frustrate himself further, his thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps.

“That’s _my_ chair!” the voice exclaimed. Spock’s heart jumped, and he felt the guilt again. The Captain obviously had no idea that he had been the subject of a mind meld, and therefore was oblivious to the fact that Spock knew exactly what Jim hadn’t been telling him. He rose from the chair and made his way over to his own seat without a word.

“Is everything okay?”

Spock didn’t turn around. He could see that Kirk was looking at him in the reflection on his monitor.

“Everything is fine, sir,” he replied curtly, flicking some buttons which made the computer spring to life. He was trying to avoid engaging in a conversation which might lead to him revealing anything out of guilt.

“You’re not mad at me for last night, are you?” Kirk looked hurt; Spock could see it. Even in the reflection. He didn’t turn around – it fascinated him to see how Kirk was actually feeling beneath the front.

“Absolutely not, sir. What you were discussing with Doctor McCoy is not my business.”

Jim flushed and inhaled silently but deeply.

“Thanks for understanding.” Spock saw him nod to himself as he spun in his chair. The room was void of any noise, bar the two men breathing and Spock typing nimbly. He didn’t understand the concept of an “awkward silence”, but he spoke up before he could stop himself.

“I trust you had a goodnight sleep, Captain?”

As soon as he had spoken, he knew that his remark had opened the gates to the topic that he wanted to avoid. He regretted it instantly and made a mental note to give himself a stern talking to later.

“I did, thanks. Whatever you did to me really helped. Was it some kind of Vulcan trance?”

Spock was in deep water, and he knew it. He never lied to anyone about anything. He was going to have to tell Kirk what he had done, and just hope that his Vulcan “innocence” would protect him from Jim being _too_ angry at him.

“If there was a Vulcan trance for sleep, I would not have been up this early,” he turned in his chair to meet his friend’s confused eyes.

“Then what was it?” Spock sighed nervously to himself. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I executed a mind meld on you, Jim.”

“A mind meld? What’s a mind meld?”

“Please understand that I had a good reasoning to do it. I concluded that what you were keeping from me somehow involved...” he hesitated, “...my Nyota. Lieutenant Uhura. I believed that a matter on this subject could be the only thing you would feel that you could not confide in me. I was wrong.”

Jim was beginning to understand. The colour had completely drained from his face.

“What does a mind meld do, Spock?” his voice was deathly calm and he spoke so slowly that Spock recognised it as a threat. Jim’s eyes were blazing, and anger was radiating off his body.

“It allows two minds to connect,” Spock said with all the confidence he could muster. James had connected all the pieces. He looked nauseated. His head fell into his hands atop his lap.

“You know...” he whispered into his palms.

“Affirmative.” Spock wanted to comfort his friend, but _he_ had inflicted this upon him. He felt it would be inappropriate for him to say anything further. Jim slowly came to his feet, his eyes connected with Spock’s, who inwardly winced at the glare his Captain was giving him, but managed to keep his grasp on his outward calm.

“I thought I could trust you,” Jim’s voice was ice, and instantly confirmed to Spock that a line had been crossed.

“You can trust me with anything, sir,” he was failing to keep his Human feelings under control. “You must understand that my logical conclusion required me to find out for myself. Nyota is very dear to me.”

“AND _YOU’RE_ VERY DEAR TO _ME_!” Kirk bellowed at his first officer, red in the face. “Do my feelings mean nothing to you?”

“Do not presume to think that – I cherish your friendship very much,” Spock was taken aback that his friend could come to such an erroneous conclusion.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you!” he looked down at his feet, as if suddenly aware of what he was saying, “I-I didn’t want to lose you as a friend...”

“Why would that terminate our friendship?” Jim was still furious – he could see it in his eyes.

“If you and Uhura broke up, would you be able to consider her a friend? Would you be able to go back to what you were before, as if nothing had ever happened?” Spock suddenly understood what Jim was trying to tell him. He realised that they could continue to be friends, but James would always want more. His friend had attempted to protect him.

“Spock,” his tone was a mixture of rage, frenzy and melancholy, but there was something else beneath it all: affection, “Spock, do I need to say it? You _know_ – you must have felt it when you were in my head. Say what you have to say.”  
He didn’t know what to say. He stood in muffled surprise as Jim searched his eyes for an unspoken reply. When he didn’t offer one, Jim spoke up.  
“Okay... Okay, that’s-that’s fine. I need you to be Captain for a while. Tell the rest of the crew that I’m sick or something. I don’t care what.” He left the room without another word. Spock was stunned.

 

Uhura was the next of the crew on the bridge. She saw Spock, who was still standing by his chair. She knew before seeing his face that something was wrong with him.

“I passed Captain Kirk on my way here,” she began gently, “he looked... Well, he just looked sad, really. Did you two “fall” out?”

“Yes..." he attempted to turn away from her, but her hands were on his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“Do you need me to do anything?” she whispered into his ear. He felt her breath on his neck. It was cooling, but not comforting. He shook his head slowly and she released the embrace. Her hands travelled to his cheeks, brushing them tentatively.

“I love you,” she breathed, and she kissed him. Spock’s thoughts were elsewhere, and it crossed his mind that Nyota was always telling him that she loved him, but she only ever kissed him in the Human way. Even though he was half Human, he had been raised as a Vulcan. He knew how to kiss, but he got little pleasure out of it. He had told Nyota about how Vulcans display affection, but she had _never_ taken the trouble of kissing him that way. He pulled away.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking annoyed and hurt.

“Everything is fine, Lieutenant. I need you to assume the role of Captain. I have business that needs attending to,” and he strode in to the corridor.


	3. Emotionally Compromised

Spock reached Jim with enough time to see him disappear into his room. The door had completely closed with not so much as a gap for him to jam his foot into. He had no option but to knock, and he didn't expect that Jim would open the door to him. He rapped sharply on the door frame several times and stepped back, anticipating a beckoning call.

"Who is it?" Jim's usually confident tone had been replaced by a muffled and worn out understudy, making Spock reluctant to answer.

"Spock, Captain. Your first officer." The door flew open, causing Spock to stumble back a few steps out of shock before regaining his balance.

"Damn it, Spock. Did you follow me?" The Captain was shaken. His hair was dishevelled, as though he had travelled at warp speed in an open-roofed car. A film of sweat coated his forehead, illuminated by the white light of the corridors.

"Indeed not, sir. I merely know where your chambers are," he shifted uncomfortably but he maintained his overall professional stance and eye contact with the Captain, "may I enter?"

Jim sighed, as though he were about to protest, but he stepped aside and gestured for Spock to come in. The lights in Jim's chamber were considerably dimmer than the ones in the rest of the ship. The glowing yellow cast dancing shadows over the beige walls, and Spock felt much warmer and at home than on the Bridge. The temperature in the room, however, wasn't as high as in Spock's suite, but he was more comfortable all the same.

The door closed behind him and he turned to his friend, who took a seat on the edge of his bed. Jim gestured for Spock to sit in the armchair opposite, and he obliged, even though he would have preferred to have remained standing.

“Would you like a drink or anything?” Jim was the first to talk, and it seemed he was eager to keep the subject on anything but the recent occurrences.

“Sir-” Spock started, but his friend cut him off.

“Water or something?” he was shaking - more nervous than Spock had ever seen him, and Spock had seen him direct the Enterprise straight into planetary attacks. Spock had seen Jim order Sulu to open fire at a Romulan ship whilst _they_ were on it if he thought he had a good enough target.

“No thank you.” Jim nodded, keeping his mouth shut and his fists curled together in his lap. He swallowed hard, as though something was stuck in his throat.

“Sir,” this time James made no movement to interrupt him, “do you feel ill?”

James shook his head like a disciplined child.

“In that case, you must return to the Bridge.”

Jim jumped up quickly, both hands running through his golden hair.

“I can’t, Spock. Not right now.”

“I do not comprehend, sir.”

“I can’t face it! I can’t face Uhura. I definitely can’t face _you_!” Jim whirled to see Spock’s perplexed expression.

“Me, sir? But I am right here,” he watched Jim’s desperate face turn into frustration, “and I cannot imagine why you could not ‘face’ Nyota, to put it as you did.”

“Do you not _understand_ what this means, Spock? I know that you don’t feel emotions as I do, but surely you must grasp the concept of them? You know what embarrassment is! You know what disappointment is! Spock,” the Captains face softened, “I can’t face Uhura because she doesn’t know how I feel about her boyfriend. I feel like I’m betraying her, and if I tell her, then I would feel like I’m betraying _you._ Do you see my problem? I'm 'emotionally compromised'.”

Spock, taken aback, nodded at his friend. He felt wordless. He knew that Jim felt more love for him than Nyota did – he had been inside his mind. He had _felt_ it. He rose to his feet and presented the only thing that he could say.

“It could never work, Jim.”

“I KNOW THAT! YOU DON’T THINK THAT I KNOW THAT?” the anger was back on his face. Spit from his friend landed on his left cheek, and it took every ounce of self control that he had not to wipe it off.

“Sir, you need to calm down,” he then did something which he had never done to another being before – not even Nyota. He crossed the room and wrapped both of his arms awkwardly around James. Jim attempted to fight him off, throwing his hands around with little coordination. He threw only one successful punch, which caught Spock square in the jaw. Spock winced inwardly, but caught his friend's arms and held him closer to his chest. Jim stopped fighting, knowing that Spock was at least twice as strong as him. James wriggled an arm free and snaked it under the Vulcan’s armpit and between his shoulder blades, his head resting on his chest. Spock was very uncomfortable. It had taken him a long time to become accustomed to being this close with Nyota – it was months before they kissed for the first time. She had long suffered it, but he had consented only because he could sense that she was beginning to lose patience.

Spock’s every instinct was telling him to let go of Jim, but he resisted it, knowing that this was what his friend needed at this moment in time.

“You do not need to be ashamed of what you feel, Jim,” he whispered steadily into the other man’s ear, “I know that it is not your fault. I will not let it prevent you and I from being friends.”

Jim squeezed harder and breathed a hurried ‘thank you’ into the blue of his over shirt. They were so close that Jim could feel Spock’s heart beating rhythmically in time with his own, and Spock could smell the icy mint fragrance of Kirk’s hair. They stood for a long time, a complex tangle of arms and torsos and hair, before Jim suddenly stiffened in Spock’s embrace. He pushed Spock roughly away from him and half turned away.

“Get out,” he hissed, his voice threatening, but Spock had already seen it.

“I am sorry,” Spock said solemnly, “you do not need to be embarrassed.”

“Please, Spock. Please leave. That's an order. I’ll come back to the Bridge, okay? But I need to...” he trailed off, heat rising in his cheeks, colouring his face bright pink. He was beginning to bend over the bed, lowering himself onto it carefully and crossing his legs.

Spock did as he was told, leaving swiftly and closing the door quietly behind him. He paused only for a second before heading back to the Bridge, but it was long enough to hear the low, gravelly groan of relief from inside the room.

 

Jim arrived on the Bridge fifteen minutes later. Spock observed that while the man looked almost normal, there was still a hint of colour in his complexion and his breathing was irregular. He knew that these were side effects of sex – he had experienced them often enough with Nyota, but there was something about Jim that looked different. When _he_ needed relief, (which he tried to avoid as often as possible), he just felt loneliness when he had finished, but Jim looked as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Morning everyone,” he chimed in, reclining casually in his chair and glancing around at his crew. ‘Morning Captain’ echoed over the officers, bringing a smile to Kirk’s face. Spock knew that some of his colleagues found Jim annoying sometimes, but there was no doubt that they thought he was a terrific captain.

“Okay... Chekov, any planetary bodies nearby?”

“Ve appear to be sirty-four light years avay from Acamar three. Vhy, sir?”

“Hospitable, Chekov? Does anything live there?”

“Yes, sir. Se Acamarians.”

“Are they friendly? Would they allow us to stay for a little while?”

All eyes turned to Jim in surprise.

“I think you all deserve a little shore-leave. Uhura, can you send a message to the planet? Ask if we can stay for a while?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Cheers irrupted. The smile on Jim’s face widened, but Spock sensed that it wasn’t just his crew that he had been thinking about. Spock moved to the Captain’s chair.

“What are you doing?” he muttered angrily. The Captain and First Officer were supposed to discuss shore leave before deciding to give it. “You did not talk to me about this.”

“I need to be away from you and Uhura for a while,” Jim explained, “especially you. I don’t have much dignity left.”

Spock could have argued with him, but he chose not to. Instead, he nodded. He didn’t mind what Jim had done, but Jim obviously did, and his mind was set in stone.

“Sir, the Acamarians say we can stay for as long as we want,” Uhura’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Even though he didn’t agree with Kirk’s leaving him out of plans, he was looking forward to some free time.

“Brilliant. Warp it up, Sulu!”

“Very good, Captain.”

 

Acamar was an Earth-like planet, though slightly more temperate. The crew emptied out of the ship and were greeted by some of the locals. Uhura stepped forward to talk to them, and when done, turned to Kirk and Spock to explain what was going on.

“Okay,” she said, looking at them in turn, “some of the locals speak English, mainly the ones who work in the tourist establishments, try not to ruin anything; there is an inter-planetary bureau-de-change around the corner.”

They nodded at her and split up to direct each group of officers. Spock searched for Kirk once they had finished, but he was nowhere to be found, and once Nyota had caught his arm and dragged him to the nearest restaurant, he was too absorbed to see Jim sitting behind a tree, wiping lost tears off his cheeks.


	4. Appologies

Shore leave lasted one week, and Spock had barely seen Kirk for any of those days – he had spent most of his time with Nyota. They had been to the beach, where the water was pale orange and the sand smelt like pine needles; Uhura’s idea, of course. Spock didn’t care for swimming. He’d have much rather been studying in the science lab or playing chess with Jim, but he wanted to please Uhura, so he made no attempt to leave her, even though he was getting increasingly anxious as to Jim’s whereabouts. As soon as he was back on board the Enterprise, he made it his duty to find the captain. He used the computer to locate him, who appeared to be in his quarters, and headed straight there.

When Jim did not open his door, Spock used the override code to Jim’s room to gain access where he found him laying on his bed with a wet flannel over his forehead and a glass tumbler of whiskey in his left hand.

“Sir, I am afraid that my duties as first officer had quite escaped me in the last week,” he started, staring at his captain, who had not yet opened his eyes.

“Bullshit, Spock. You were on shore leave. You _had_ no duties.”

“Nevertheless, I am sorry, sir.”

Jim swallowed hard, Spock noticed, and he was glad that Jim could not see him. He tore his gaze away from his friend’s throat, and shook off the ineffable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Are you not feeling well, sir?” Spock inquired, stepping closer to the bed to fully inspect Jim, who groaned, and his eyes flickered open. They were bloodshot and distant, but Spock noticed the distinct dilation in his pupils. Sweat glazed his cheeks, and Spock could feel, even from where he was standing, that his temperature was dangerously high.

“Mm’ fine,” he grumbled, looking up with the same face the day he died in the radiation chamber. This wasn’t normal, and Spock wasn’t going to lose him again.

“Sir, you need to see Doctor McCoy.” Spock was panicking. He took the whiskey away from James and removed the flannel, taking it to the sink to refresh it. Before he could complain about the loss of his alcohol, Spock was back by the side of the bed, pressing the cold rag to Jim’s forehead and cheeks.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he struggled to sit up but Spock pushed him down again. He didn’t protest. His head hit the pillow with a gentle ‘thump’ and Jim winced as though someone had slapped him.

 “Sir, I am afraid that if I do _not_ worry about you, you will do something very illogical again, and I do not wish to lose you twice.”

“You know that what I did was _only_ logical, Spock. I said it then. It’s what you would have done- what I _had_ to do. You just don’t want to believe it.”

And Spock couldn’t argue with that. His friend was right. He would have risked his life for the crew, and he would have done anything to have died instead of Jim. Jim had acted in the most sensible manner; only now was he realising how the logic had almost cost him his best friend, and if he had lost Jim... Spock didn’t want to think about it.

“I was going to tell you then,” Jim said, his hand falling over Spock’s unconsciously, but he did not try to move it.

“Tell me what, captain?”

“I thought, if it was the last thing that I was going to say, it might as well have been that, but you... You finished it for me...”

“...because you are my friend...” Spock recited quietly, the words he had said over and over to Jim until he had awoken from the transfusion. Jim nodded.

“And that’s not what I was going for, but it was true enough, and I thought if I didn’t- if I didn’t say it, then you would have found it easier to let me go...” he trailed off. Spock felt Jim’s grip tighten around his own. He tried to speak, but his words came out choked and shaking. He raised his other hand over Jim’s and tried again.

“If you had died, I do not know what I would have done. There is _nothing_ you could have said to make your death bearable. I would do anything for you, Jim. I would have done anything in my power to have been in the chamber instead of you.”

“I _did_ die, Spock.”

“But you came back.”

Neither of them spoke for a long time after that. Jim was making a small circling motion with his thumb on the back of Spock’s hand and he didn’t know whether he enjoyed it or if it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to be sure of much anymore.

“I am sorry, James,” he said softly. Jim released the death grip and sat up.

“I would say that it’s okay, but it’s not,” Spock nodded like he understood, “I would have told you in my own time. Or not at all. It wasn’t your business.”

He felt disappointed that Jim hadn’t forgiven him, but he had hardly expected him to. He understood now that what he had done was wrong, and he deeply regretted his actions. He tried to plead for forgiveness, but Jim suddenly started coughing violently. Spock was by the computer in a flash.

“Spock to medical. McCoy, do you copy?”

The husky voice from the other end came almost instantly.

“McCoy to Spock, I copy. What’s the problem?”

“It’s Jim, Doctor.”

“Jim? What’s wrong with him?”

“High temperature, coughing fits, bloodshot eyes, sweating. I believe he may have picked up an illness whilst on shore leave.”

“I’ll be there,” the line went dead, and in minutes, Bones charged through the door. Spock helped him carry Jim to the medical bay, where they dumped him in the nearest chair. Bones strapped him to a machine and began to sort through the pills on the counter. He handed Spock a bottle of water and two green capsules and said, “Make him take these; they will take the temperature down”. Spock did as he was told as McCoy injected something blue and syrupy into Kirk’s neck. Jim’s eyes glassed and his head lolled back in the chair. Bones had given him a sedative.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I fucking hope so. Damn the son of a bitch for being so stubborn.”

 

 

Jim woke up with a groan and Bones was beside him with medication before he could sit up. Spock looked up from his PADD to see the doctor forcing two yellow capsules down the captain’s throat, who coughed a couple of times and sat up.

“What was wrong with me?” he asked croakily, and took a long glug of water from the bottle on the table beside the bed he had been moved to.

“You were having a severe reaction to one of the plants from Acamar three. If Spock hadn’t alerted me you would probably be dead.”

“How come I didn’t have a reaction earlier in the week?”

“You must have only just come into contact with the plant. Anyway, who cares? You’re fine now.”

“Who has the con?” Jim asked, suddenly aware that neither he nor his first officer were on the bridge.

“We have not set off yet,” Spock said, “besides, you were only unconscious for an hour.”

Jim grunted and stood up. Bones signed him off, obviously unwilling to bargain with the captain to take some time off. Spock followed him out of the medical bay and into the turbo-lift, and within seconds, they were on the bridge.

“Captain on the bridge,” came from somewhere in the room, but Spock was not sure from whom. He seated himself at his station. He was barely sat for two minutes before Uhura called the captain, sounding distressed.

“Captain, I’m receiving a distress signal, but I cannot tell from where.”

“What language is it?”

“I cannot tell, sir. The signal isn’t strong enough.”

Kirk looked thoughtful for a moment, considering his options before he made his decision.

“Kirk to Scotty, are you getting this signal?”

“Aye, captain.”

“Can you lock on the coordinates?”

“Aye, captain. I think she can do it.”

“Okay, Kirk out. How long will the journey take, Sulu?”

“Approximately three minutes at warp four, sir.”

“Kick it, Lieutenant.”

He typed his captain passcode into his PADD and made an announcement.

“We are receiving what we believe to be a distress broadcast in an undistinguishable language. We will be arriving at the source of the signal in three minutes. Load weapons and stand by. Kirk out.”

Spock stood up, “Captain?” He was about to argue for Jim’s safety and health, before he realised that he would be wasting his breath.

“Yes, Commander?”

“You may want to put the shields up,” he sat back down at his console.

“Thank you, Mr Spock. Good idea. Sulu, shields at sixty percent. We don’t know what we’re flying into.”

Spock nodded and smiled a rare Vulcan smile, but Kirk was no longer looking at him. He was facing the window now, looking out into space. Spock turned back to his screen.

“Arriving at destination in five, four, three, two- one!”


	5. Klingon Warbirds

The ship stopped and the crew jolted. Spock was hurtled towards the captain’s chair where he landed across Jim’s lap. The Enterprise shook again and Spock’s head knocked against his captain’s jaw. He almost rolled to the floor but Jim’s pulled him back against his chest. The staff were picking themselves up and returning to their stations shakily. Some were bleeding. Some were not moving at all.

“Jim...” he said, spinning to look up at his friend. Jim had a bloody nose and a blossoming bruise on his chin, which must have been from when he head butted him. He dropped carefully to the ground to assess any damage on his body. His left wrist was dislocated but he could still move his fingers.  _Pain is an illusion of the mind..._

Sulu turned his head to them. He looked relatively unharmed, aside from the slightly dishevelled hair. “Klingon Warbirds, captain. Four of them.”

“Warbirds? Are we in Klingon space?” Jim was involuntarily blushing hard. Spock knew that he was embarrassed from being engaged in such an intimate position with him. He decided that he would discuss it with him later.

Sulu turned to Chekov and screamed. Nobody had noticed that Chekov was unconscious, his head lying awkwardly upon the console. Cries and gasps came from the Bridge when the rest of the crew saw what they were staring at, but Sulu had ceased speaking. Tears were running down his cheeks and he had stopped fighting them. Jim cursed under his breath, standing from his chair and running his hands over his head. He was holding back tears of his own.

“Kirk to medical. Are you okay? Bones, do you copy?”

The was a slight pause followed by some white noise, but eventually, a crackly McCoy replied, “Fine. We’re fine.”

“Get to the bridge now, Bones. Paval is unconscious.”

McCoy didn’t even reply, and he was on the Bridge within seconds with two nurses carrying a stretcher. Sulu screamed at them as they carried him away, his face shining with salty tears. He managed to get a kiss between Chekov’s eyes before they carried him into the turbolift. No one questioned it. He resumed his position at the con and turned to Jim.

“We do not appear to be in Klingon space,” he managed, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“Is it a trap?” Jim said, glancing at Spock for his opinion.

“Illogical. If it were a trap, they would lure us into Klingon space. They would have more control of us that way.”

“So what you’re suggesting is that...”

“I believe we received a genuine distress call. Perhaps from a captor on board one of the ships?”

“Are they attempting to fire, Sulu?”

“I do not believe they have noticed us yet, sir,” Sulu sounded strangled as he spoke, but he seemed to be ignoring the previous events.

“Sir,” it was Uhura this time, “the signal is coming from  _that_ ship. The one directly ahead.”

“Kirk to Scotty, can we teleport?”

“Ay, ye can, sir. Be careful won’t ye?”

“I can promise you that, thanks Scotty. Uhura, I’m going to need you to take the con.”

“Sir, why?”

“Because I’m taking Spock to the Warbird, Lieutenant,” he said evenly, rising and beckoning to Spock.

“What about Sulu?” Uhura argued, gesturing at the broken man. Spock became suddenly aware of how close Jim was standing to Nyota.

“I want him in the medical bay. With his boyfriend,” Sulu looked up from the con with a hopeful glint in his eyes, “Lieutenant, you are dismissed. He needs you.”

Sulu raced to the turbolift without a second look back. Jim turned back to Uhura.

“You’ll be fine, Nyota,” Spock cut in deliberately before Jim had chance to speak. He bent down and kissed her lightly. She tangled her hands in his hair and drew him closer. Jim turned away again, anger and jealously bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He coughed for their attention and they broke apart unwillingly.

“You can get a room later,” he spat, glaring at Spock. They entered the turbolift and Jim pressed for the lift to hold.

“You did that on purpose,” he hissed, grabbing Spock’s shoulder to prevent him from turning away. Spock’s face darkened.

“You are correct, sir,” Spock could answer with nothing but the truth. He hoped that Jim didn’t ask him how he felt about his hand on his shoulder, because Spock was enjoying it immensely. He did not understand why, but he wanted Jim’s hands on his face. A warmth spread to his crotch, much to add to his confusion.

“Why?” Jim demanded. Spock did his best to shake the feeling off, whatever it was.

“You were getting close- too close, to Nyota,” Spock understood that this was illogical. He had been in Jim’s mind. He knew how he felt.

“This _again?_ The only person I want is _you_ , Spock!” Jim shook his head and looked down, and in doing so, caught a glimpse of what Spock didn’t want him to see.

“Shake it off, Spock. C’mon. Shake it off. We’re on a rescue mission. You can find Nyota later...” the captain trailed off, and it was obvious that speaking those words had made him feel physically sick.

“No, sir. It is not ‘from’ Nyota,” he said quietly, but matter-of-factly, blushing as though he were ashamed, even though he wasn’t. He knew he should be, though. He shouldn’t experience an erection from anyone other than Nyota...

“What’s going on, Spock? Why? Why _now?”_

“I do not know, sir.”

“Figure it out. I need you, but I don’t need messing around,” Jim sighed. Spock couldn’t tell whether his expression was smugness, or sadness, or even _pity_ , but he knew that Jim was right. Spock hated the fact that he had upset his friend a countless number of times. He had invaded Jim’s thoughts without his consent, which upset Spock the most. None of this would be happening if Spock wasn’t genetically programmed to take the most logical course of action. What if he didn’t? What if, for once...

He took a deep breath and lifted Jim’s hand, placing their index and middle fingers together in an _ozh-esta -_  a Vulcan _kiss,_ completely forgetting about his dislocated wrist...


End file.
